Finding Faith
by MsBrooklyn
Summary: A crossover between US MarshalsThe Fugitive and BtVSAngel. Deputy US Marshal Sam Gerard goes after a different type of fugitive....
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own nuthin'. Not a bloody thing.

Datclaimer: This is a cross-over between US Marshals/the Fugitive and Buffy/Angel.

Finding Faith

By MsBrooklyn

"Cooper!"

The word echoed like a gunshot in the hallway, off of walls that once might have been a soft shade of butter yellow. The color had aged to more of a parchment color, streaked here and there with scuff marks.

Deputy U.S. Marshal Savannah Cooper stiffened at the sound of her name. Caught, she turned to face her boss, keeping her face neutral as he stormed down the hallway towards her, clutching a manila folder.

"What the hell is this," demanded her boss, Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Samuel Gerard. He waved the file that she'd dropped on his desk moments before, hoping that she could slip away before he realized what it was.

Cooper's eyes swept over the red lettering. She didn't need to read it again, could recite the jacket from memory. "Iris gave it to me. She said Deatherage sent you a memo."

Gerard scowled as he digested this bit of information about his boss, U.S. Marshal Steven D. Deatherage and Deatherage's secretary. He looked down at the folder. "It's a cold case."

"I know that, Sam," Cooper said.

"We don't do cold cases."

"I told her that."

"I never got the memo, either." Gerard commented, scowling at the file once more. He heaved a sigh. "Alright, get Cosmo and Bobby and tell 'em we're having a meeting in my office in half an hour."

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"This is a cold case!" Cosmo Renfro waved his copy of the file at Gerard. "Why are getting stuck with a cold case?"

"And it's a kid."

"A kid who was sentenced to twenty-five to life," Biggs put in, before adding, "Aggravated homicide. Three counts."

"Escaped from Stockton," Cooper added, flipping through the pages of her file. "Smashed right through the glass in the maximum visitors room."

Gerard sipped his coffee, aware that all eyes in the room were on him. When his team fell silent, he repeated what Deatherage told him. "This kid....this Faith, was spotted in Cleveland a few months back and there was a spotting here in Chicago, last week. Ohio sent it here and Deatherage gave it to me. There's some pressure coming from upstairs on this one."

"How the hell could she break through that glass?" Renfro asked. "Bullets can't get through. And look at this. Not a trace of blood on it anywhere, so we have no idea what she was hopped up on."

"I don't think she was on anything," Cooper said, quietly. "Her sheet from Stockton says there were a few minor fights but she never tested positive for drugs in any of the random checks."

Gerard took another sip of coffee. "We start our investigation in sunny California, boys and girls. Deatherage gave us the green light to start from scratch on this one."

"Not exactly," Renfro told him. "Scratch would mean going to Sunnydale, California, where she started her little murder spree."

Biggs nodded and added, "Yeah, that's the town that got buried in that earthquake last year, isn't it?"

"Aw, c'mon, Sam! California?!" Renfro looked up from his folder. "Can't we -"

"Nope. Asked and denied." Gerard got to his feet. "Start packing, Renfro. Cooper. Biggs. You two follow up on the recent sighting."

As his team filed out the door on this latest assignment of the Violent Fugitives Task Force, Sam heaved a weary sigh. He didn't like this case. Not one bit. And he had a feeling he was going to like it less by the time it was over.

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Women's Facility

Stockton Correction Center

"That's not a knife."

"I didn't write the report," James Brenner told him, raising his hands in the air.

Gerard studied the corrections officer, taking in the younger man's neatly pressed uniform and the look of worry on his light brown face. "But you were there when it happened."

"I was there," Brenner confirmed.

As if by silent agreement, they both looked down at the weapon. It was, Gerard noted to himself, more of a dagger than a knife, with what appeared to be jewels in the handle, and a gold handle at that. It was a ceremonial dagger of some kind, and it looked old. Definitely valuable. He cut his eyes to Brenner again. "This is quite a weapon."

"Never seen anything like it," Brenner agreed. "Then again, Faith...never seen anything like her, either."

"Really? What made her so special?" Brenner looked thoughtful and Gerard found himself taking a liking to the guard. The man was choosing his words carefully and Gerard was sure there was going to be some useful information coming out of this meeting. It was a damned sight more useful than his meeting with the warden. Half an hour of platitudes and ass-covering. Gerard hated bureaucrats.

"She was powerful, Faith was," Brenner said, finally. "Wasn't just that she was strong. She was that, too. A lot stronger than she looked, but she didn't fight with anybody, never out there provin' herself. Don't get me wrong, she'd throw down if she had to, but that girl could fight. I don't mean street fighting, either. It was graceful, not martial arts, but like that. Eyes in the back of her head. Nobody ever got the jump on her and she usually came through without a scratch."

"And the other gals?"

"Broken wrists, broken fingers. Just enough force to stop but not kill." There was the tiniest hint of admiration in Brenner's voice. "That afternoon, Faith came out like usual and she started working out on the bars. Alvarez came up behind her and Faith swung around like she knew what Alvarez was gonna do before she did it. Broke Alvarez's nose and that was that."

"Except for one thing," Gerard commented. "We don't know who paid Alvarez to do it."

"She hung herself in the infirmary," Brenner told him.

It was a little too coincidental, but this Faith kid was already escaping when it happened. Gerard lifted the dagger, still sheathed in a plastic evidence bag. "Anyone get anything on this?"

"Nothing. Just some prints from Alvarez."

"I'm going to take it, see what kind of history it has."

Brenner leaned forward, lowering his voice, confidentially. "I know someone who might be able to help."

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"What did you get?"

"Never mind what I got, Sam," Renfro told him, angling for a better look at the dagger. "What did you get? Is that a dagger?!"

"It's a dagger." Gerard tucked it into his briefcase and turned his attention back to Renfro. "Well?"

"I didn't get much. The visitor-slash-accomplice was a Wesley Wyndham-Price. Never visited before. The only other visitor she ever had was an investigator from Angel Investigations."

Gerard thought about this and then gave voice to the question it raised. "Why would she need an investigator if she confessed and pleaded guilty?"

"I've got Cooper running down an address on this Angel Investigations," Renfro told him. "We should have something soon."

"And I know just what we can do in the meantime. Feel like taking a little trip to LA?"


	2. Chapter 2

201 South Figeroa Street

Los Angeles

Renfro's expression was sour as he opened the door to Lockley Investigations. The office was in a shabby building without an elevator, air conditioning and, it seemed, janitorial services. "After you, Sam."

Gerard brushed past him, his eyes scanning the small office. There were two desks, one covered with files, a computer and an assortment of books that looked beyond old. Ancient. A coffee maker sat on the window sill, a pair of mugs next to it. In the corner, slamming a file cabinet drawer was a woman.

She turned to face them, not saying a word as her azure blue eyes swept over first Renfro and then Gerard. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat and hard. "Get out."

Gerard didn't flinch, just shifted into an easy aw-shucks grin and produced his ID. "Ms. Lockley –"

"Do you have a warrant," Lockley asked crisply.

"I just wanted to talk. Jim Brenner thought you might be able to shed some light on this." Gerard reached into the briefcase and held up the dagger.

She came closer, peering through the plastic at the weapon. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, ma'am, no joke," Gerard said, quickly, catching Renfro's stare and then turning his attention back to Lockley. "Does this mean anything to you?"

"It does, Deputy..."

"Gerard."

"Deputy Gerard," she repeated, a faint smile appearing at last on her face, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It means that you're in over your head on this case, whatever it is."

Gerard exchanged another quick glance with Renfo, reaching a silent agreement to let Gerard continue working on the ex-cop. "What makes you say that, Ms. Lockley?"

"I'm curious, Deputy Gerard," Lockley said, ignoring his question. "Why bring that to me?"

"Brenner –"

"Did Brenner tell you why I'm not a cop anymore, Deputy?" She took the evidence bag from his hand. Her eyes met his and didn't look away. "I'm not a cop anymore because I know about things like this."

He followed Lockley as she led him towards the desk with the stack of books. Before he could reach for one, she shot him a look that warned him not to try.

She switched on the computer and punched a few keys. "Tell me about this dagger, Gerard. What was it used for?"

"That's why Brenner sent me to you, actually. It was used in an attempted murder up in Stockton. Brenner mentioned you were the arresting officer in the original case." Gerard waited until she looked up from the computer. "Does the name Faith ring bell?"

Lockley dropped the dagger onto her desk as if it were on fire. "My god...she's escaped. That's why you're here. And you have no idea what you're dealing with. Gerard, do yourself a favor and mark this one unsolved."

"That's a pretty extreme reaction, Ms. Lo –"

"Kate," she corrected him. "And yes, it is. Trust me, this is something you don't want to get mixed up in. I did and it cost me my reputation, my job and it almost cost my life. This goes deeper than some prison escape, Gerard. This goes into things you don't want to know about."

He couldn't help himself, so he asked, "What kind of things?"

She shook her head and handed the dagger back to him. "I can't help you, Gerard. Sorry."

"At least tell me about the girl,' Gerard persisted. Lockley had information, he was certain, that would take him days, maybe even weeks, to find out. He wasn't leaving without it. "You worked the case, tell me what you remember."

"Try the file."

"I'd rather hear it in your words."

"The file is in my own words."

Stand-off. It was a shame Renfro wasn't more charming, Gerard mused. "Help me out here, Kate. They spotted your girl in Chicago."

"Chicago?" Kate blinked and Gerard could almost see her mind racing, trying to make the connections. "That doesn't make sense. What the hell is in Chicago?"

"They spotted her in Cleveland a couple of months before," Renfro piped up.

"Of course," she said, softly, almost absently. "She'd have to go there, wouldn't she?"

Gotcha! "What's in Cleveland?"

The smile came back, this time with the tiniest hint of warmth. "Uh-uh. If you're going to chase after this, you do it on your own."

"Come on, Kate. Give me something." Gerard hit her with all the good ol' boy charm he could muster.

"All right." She locked stares with him, her blue eyes issuing a challenge. "That's the Dagger of D'akkronn. I'm not going to tell you what it means or how I know. When you find it out for yourself and if you decide you still want to go after Faith, you can come back and we'll talk."

"How do you spell that," Renfro asked. "D-a-c-r-o-n?"

"It's not a pair of socks," Kate sighed and then spelled it for him. As Gerard passed her on his way out, she grabbed his arm. "Be careful, Gerard. It's more dangerous out there than you think."


	3. Chapter 3

Renfro whistled loudly as they stepped back into the sunshine on Figeroa Street. "Whoo boy! Can ya believe that one, Sam? Dacron daggers, yet. No wonder they kicked her off the force."

Blinking at the brightness of the sun, Gerard glanced back up at the windows of Lockley's office. The blinds were wide open. He filed that away, along with the feeling that was just one more piece of useful information about the woman. They were definitely going to talk again soon. "I'd like a little background on Kate Lockley, Cosmo. Why don't you go ask around and meet me back at the hotel?"

Renfro's eyes narrowed suspiciously, as he reached into his pocket for a pair of sunglasses. Slipping them on, he asked, "You're getting rid of me? Why? You're not thinking of going back up there and tryin' to sweet-talk her, are you?"

Gerard's face creased into an easy grin while his mind raced. He knew where he was going next and it would be easier alone. "Would I do that?"

"You would, if you were able to," Renfro shot back. "I wouldn't try it if I were you."

"Not gonna. I've got other plans."

"Such as?"

"Oh, you know, catching some sun, finding out if there really is a Dagger of D'akkronn, that kind of thing."

Snorting, Renfro shook his head. "You're not gonna waste your time with that, are you?"

"She seemed to believe it."

"She also had a wooden stake on her desk. You gonna start lookin' for Dracula, too?"

Gerard fought back a wince. He'd noticed the stake, too, not to mention crucifixes over the door and windows, and one around Lockley's neck. "Just get me that background, will you?"

Renfro bared his teeth in an imitation of a vampire. A very bad imitation. "I vill get your background and maybe I suck your blood, too."

"Knock it off, Cosmo." He made a mental note never to send Renfro in undercover if this was the best he could do.

"It was a stake, Sam, and she didn't look like the type who likes to go camping, either." At Gerard's scowl, Renfro stepped to the curb to hail a cab. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

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"This is very nice." The clerk peered over his glasses at Gerard, watery grey eyes broadcasting his interest in the dagger. In the background, Muzak played softly, while other clerks examined other items brought in by people who hoped they had a priceless treasure instead of worthless junk. "Where did you get it?"

"The where's not really important, is it?" Sam flashed his I'm-just-a-civilian-and-not-too-bright grin at the auction house clerk. It would be easier if he could pass for another hopeful, rather than explain the dagger or its recent history. "Could be I just found it in my attic, know what I mean? I'd like to know if it's worth anything."

The clerk blinked and then lifted his head to look Gerard fully in the face. "Well, of course it's worth something. This hilt is gold and these stones, semiprecious though they may be, are flawless. I'd estimate the age at Twelfth Century."

Now that was interesting. Odd enough that the weapon wasn't your run of the mill jailhouse shiv, Gerard mused, but for it to turn out to be a Twelfth Century antique... "What else can you tell me about it?"

Blinking slowly, the clerk's grey eyes seemed less watery. "You're in the wrong place, detective."

Damn. So much for the just-a-civilian grin. With a sigh, Gerard produced his badge, confirming his identity for the clerk. "Why am I in the wrong place?"

"Ah...so I was right...you are in law enforcement." The clerk bared a grin of his own. "Weatherby's doesn't deal in this kind of antiquity, you see. You need...a specialist. It just so happens I know such a specialist."

This case and the people he was meeting working it just kept getting weirder. "What makes my dagger different than, say, the one on the wall behind you?"

"You'll find out, detective. Certainly, you will."

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Twenty minutes later, Gerard was standing in front of the address the Weatherby's clerk had given him. Looking around, he double-checked it. The beaten up store-front declared the place to be a pawn shop, rather than a dealer in antiquities. At least the name was right. Kober's.

He stepped inside the door, a bell ringing to announce his presence. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around for Kober or anyone else. The shop seemed to be deserted. The counter display case was filled with hunting knives, a few Walkmans and some cheap-looking jewelry.

"You must be the detective," rumbled a voice to his right.

Gerard whirled. He always checked the corners and it wasn't like him to miss a guy this big. "Kober?"

"That's me." Kober was easily six-five, with a pockmarked face, thick lips and eyes Gerard thought were brown but then suddenly seemed yellow, like a cat's. He held out a hand, fingers flicking impatiently. "Let's see it."

It wasn't procedure, really, to open the evidence bag, but Gerard did it anyway.

Kober closed his eyes and lifted the blade to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Oh, this is....yes....a treasure....I can smell her blood on it."

Okay, Gerard told himself, this was obviously some kind of nutcase, but he'd go with it for now. "Can you?"

Opening his eyes – and this time Gerard was sure they were yellow before they morphed back into a normal-looking brown – Kober nodded. "The Dagger of D'akkronn. Do you know its story, Detective?"

"It's Deputy, actually," Gerard corrected him. "And no, but I'd love to, if you've got the time."

"D'akkronn was the leader of the Arnokk Clan, which was based in China. It was there the Slayer was called. She was powerful, this Slayer, and killed most of the Clan. D'akkronn decided to make war on the Slayer and so had this dagger made. He called up upon the Old Ones and had it blessed with dark magicks." Kober sniffed the blade again, reverently. "He killed her with it. Another was called and she vanquished D'akkronn and so the blade was lost. Or so it was believed."

Gerard knew he was going to regret asking, but he did it anyway. "What's a slayer?"

"You don't know." Kober set the dagger down onto the glass counter and leaned down to peer at Gerard more closely. "You held this blade in your hands and you don't feel its power, do you?"

"Not really," Gerard admitted. "It's just a knife."

"No!" The word thundered in the small shop. "It is not just a knife. This blade was called again into service when the First Evil declared war on the lineage of the Slayers. This was intended for the dark one. Faith."

There it was. The connection. It didn't mean a damned thing to him, not yet, but whatever Kober was trying to tell him was a piece of the puzzle. "You know her?"

"If I knew her, I wouldn't be standing in front of you." Kober's face creased into a pitying look. "You have no idea what walks this earth, do you, Deputy? Tell me, Deputy, have you ever seen evil?"

"I –"

"Of course you haven't. You've seen human approximations but you don't know." Reaching for the dagger, Kober held it out to Gerard. "This isn't your fight, Deputy. Go back into the light and forget what you've learned today."

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of hearing that."

Kober's eyes blazed yellow and this time Gerard was sure it wasn't a trick of the light. The man's entire face seemed to change and where there were once teeth, now there were fangs. Kober, if that's what this thing was, growled.

Gerard took a step back and eased a hand towards his gun.

"I could rip out your still-beating heart out of your chest and eat it in front of you before you could reach for that gun, Deputy," Kober rumbled. "Even if you could reach it in time, a bullet won't stop me."

Swallowing at the sight before him, Gerard's fingers rested on his gun. "So what are we gonna do here, Kober?"

"We?" Kober seemed to shrink and his eyes were a normal brown again. He thrust the dagger at Gerard. "We're doing nothing, friend. You're leaving."

As Gerard took the dagger, he noticed Kober's hand for the first time. It looked like a claw.

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"I want answers."

Kate Lockley raised an eyebrow at Gerard as he slammed her office door shut behind him. "It seems to me like you got some already, Gerard, but you don't know what to do with them."

The man was clearly agitated as he started to pace and despite herself, Kate felt a little sorry for him. She got up, pour him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

He sipped it slowly and peered at her over the rim. "Are we going to have a conversation now or are you going to get all cryptic and throw me out again?"

And just like that, he went from bulldog to hangdog. Kate sighed and wondered if she was going soft or just wanted somebody normal that she could talk to again. "What did you find out, Gerard?"

"Call me Sam and I'll tell you."

"You've got a deal. Sam."

A few minutes later, Kate listened to him finish telling what she was sure was an abbreviated version of what really happened. He looked at her, his brown eyes weary and said, rather than asked, "You know about this stuff, don't you? Slayers and first evils."

"I know a little something about it," she admitted, refilling his cup. "The question is, Sam, do you want to know about it? Think before you answer because if it's yes, everything changes. Everything you think you know, everything you think you understand. Are you ready for your colleagues to start calling you Mulder?"

"You really believe this stuff, don't you?" Sam asked, while his eyes searched hers. She was sure he was looking for evidence that she was crazy.

"I do," Kate admitted. "And so will you, but there's a price. Once you know what I know, you can't go back. Ever. So ask yourself if it's worth that price. Look at me and ask yourself if you could handle having it happen to you."

Even before he opened his mouth, she knew what the answer was going to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Before Gerard could speak, the door flew open. All it took was one glance for Gerard to make the guy as a snitch of some kind. In his late thirties or early forties, the dark-haired, brown-eyed man wore a beat-up brown leather jacket, had half-a-day's worth of stubble and had the look of somebody lived in the shadows.

"Kate! Hey, Kate! I – hey! It's you! You're early!" The snitch flashed an unusually white smile at Gerard before turning back to Kate. "And you owe me an apology. I told you he was coming."

Kate got to her feet, neither her face nor her eyes showing anything. Even if she wasn't a cop anymore, she still could do a cop-face. "Sam, meet Whistler."

"Whistler," Gerard repeated, testing out the name. "Like the painter?"

Whistler gave a short laugh. "Maybe. I work with Kate on what you might call a freelance basis."

"Really?" Now this was interesting. Gerard kept his expression bland and his tone light. He wondered if Kate was evaluating his version of cop-face. "How'd you know I was coming?"

"He's kidding," Kate interrupted, sharply, throwing a glare at Whistler.

"He needs to know," Whistler insisted.

He sure did, Sam agreed silently, waiting to see what Kate would say next. She didn't say a word, though, just shook her head and folded her arms.

Whistler paced the small office, fiddling with the files on Kate's desk, straightening the stacks. Finally, he stopped, having organized his thoughts as well as the paperwork and locked eyes with Kate again. "If he's here and he's early, that means other events are moving faster, too. We don't have the luxury of letting him find his own answers."

"So tell him. When he's done laughing his ass off, then we can do it my way," she said, moving back behind her desk so that she could watch the drama unfold.

"No can do," Whistler told her, checking his watch. "Deputy Gerard, you need to take that phone call."

Before Gerard could begin to wonder how Whistler knew his name, his cell phone rang. He decided against wondering if his day could possibly get any stranger. "'Scuse me, folks, I need to take this."

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Kate waited for Gerard to close the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway before she tore into Whistler, in the harshest whisper she could manage. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Whatever They want me to," he responded, brushing past her to the mini fridge behind her desk. "You know that, Kate."

"I still have a hard time believing this stuff," she hissed. "And I saw plenty with my own eyes before you walked into my life with your spiel about working for the greater good. You think he's just going to sit here and accept everything you say?"

Shrugging, he cracked open a can of cola. "Of course not. That's why he came to you. It's nice that you're so protective of him. He feels the same way, even if he doesn't know it yet."

Kate counted to three. "Now you're saying I'm supposed to get involved with him? Don't you think he's a little old for me? Not to mention he thinks I'm out of my mind?"

"Doesn't matter what I think," Whistler said, taking a long sip of the cola. "I'm just the messenger."

They were doing it again, she realized. It was the same song and dance they went through every time he told her something she didn't want to hear or believe. And every time, he was right. But...Gerard? Did this mean they were supposed to be friends? Lovers? True, there was something about him, but he was older, in his fifties, and once he heard about the vampires and the demons, not to mention the reason he was here, he'd be ready to ship her off to the nearest nuthouse. And if he believed it on the first listen, maybe he should be shipped off to the nearest nuthouse. Gerard. Not likely.

With a loud slurp, Whistler finished the cola and put the empty can into her wastebasket. "You'll see."

And she knew he was going to be right. Again. Damn it.

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"You're kidding."

"No, boss, no kidding," Cooper told him, her voice holding a note of excitement as she repeated the information. "The Wesley Wyndham-Price who signed the visitors log at Stockton came into the US under a visa issued in 1999. He was hired as an assistant librarian at Sunnydale High, which is in the same town where this Faith took out the deputy mayor and that professor. Price was let go in 2000 after the high school was destroyed in an explosion. A few months later, he surfaced in LA as an employee of Angel Investigations, which is the same firm that is listed as yet another visitor on two occasions to this Faith. Price wasn't the visitor, though."

There were coincidences and then there were coincidences. It was a shame Gerard didn't believe in coincidences. "Keep going, Cooper, you're doing good."

"The visitor was Angel, no last name, no Social Security number, but there is a tax ID number for the detective agency. Staying with Price for a minute, he's now an employee of a law firm, Wolfram and Hart, and had his visa renewed three months ago. I sent copies of all the supporting docs to your LAN fax."

Gerard let her pause while he digested all this. How did a librarian – an assistant librarian, yet, and was there really such a thing in a high school -- get a job as a private investigator? And then move to a law firm. It didn't sit right and he hated it when the facts didn't sit right. "What else you got, Cooper?"

"This Angel guy is running the LA office of Wolfram and Hart. He's not a lawyer, but he's running the office. I've got a few sources tracking down how that happened and why. Price isn't a lawyer, either, but according to the law firm's directory, he heads up the research department." Cooper paused and took a breath. "Cosmo called and asked me to look into Katherine Lockley. I have a prelim on her. You want it?"

He glanced at the office door behind him. "Go ahead."

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When Gerard let himself back into her office, Kate caught herself looking at him for any sign that Whistler might be right. What she saw was that he was looking at her, too, but for what she knew were different reasons. "You heard about why I was let go."

"Some of it," he admitted, with a wry grin. "Wanna tell me the rest of it and save the taxpayers some money?"

Whistler brushed past them and slipped through the open door. Stopping, he waved a warning finger in Kate's direction. "Remember what I said."

She heaved a sigh as he walked down the hall.

"What did he say," Gerard asked.

"You don't want to know."

"I do," he assured her. "Unfortunately, it has to wait. I need to follow up on a lead –"

"You're going to Wolfram and Hart, aren't you?" If he was surprised, he only showed it for the briefest second. "Come on, Sam. I worked this case two years ago and I know who you need to talk to. Just be careful. Wolfram and Hart isn't your typical law firm."

"Most law firms are soulless bloodsuckers," Gerard joked. "What makes these guys different?"

Kate smiled. "Most firms think they're soulless bloodsuckers. Wolfram and Hart is the real thing."

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"I'm sorry, but Mr. Wyndham-Price is in a meeting."

Gerard looked down at the nametag on the girl's desk. Harmony Kendall. It figured. He flashed a smile and shifted into his just-doing-my-job-ma'am-tone. "Look, Harmony, I could come back with a warrant, but do you think Mr. Windham-Pryce would really want that?"

She blinked and looked like she was thinking very hard about his question. There was no doubt about it. Harmony Kendall was a dumb blonde, reinforcing the stereotype for blondes everywhere.

"Can I help you?" The voice was deep, resonant and Gerard spun around to see its source. Every inch of the guy screamed lawyer, from the custom Italian suit to the shiny Ferragamos. "I'm Charles Gunn, officer...."

"Deputy US Marshal Sam Gerard." He flashed his badge, making a mental note of the name. In the meantime, it was time to play with the lawyers. "I'd like to speak with Wesley Wyndham-Price. It's concerning an open investigation."

Gunn's reply was cut off when a woman wearing a skin-tight leather bodysuit strode into the reception area. Her hair had bright blue highlights and her eyes were a matching blue that had to be contacts.

Gerard blinked, because she seemed to have a blue glow and that just had to be his imagination.

The woman stopped in front of him and cocked her head, staring at him.

He stared back.

"Illyria." Her head snapped in the direction of the speaker and Gerard's eyes followed.

"Wes, this nice US Marshal wants to speak with you," Gunn told the new arrival. "He doesn't have a warrant and I'm about to tell him to hit the road until we can arrange a time when you can speak represented by counsel."

Price's eyes narrowed at Gerard and he addressed Gunn without turning his attention from Gerard. "It's alright, Gunn. We can dispense with the warrant for now."

"That's awfully nice of you, Mr. Price," Gerard said, easily. The woman, Illyria, was still staring at him. "I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about a jail break you witnessed last year."

"Of course you do." Price locked stares with Gunn. "We'll oblige you. Illyria, will you wait for me in the laboratory?"

Illyria stiffened, eyes flashing blue fire. "I go where I please. Whether you are there or not is irrelevant."

"Of course you do," Price agreed. "But Spike is waiting for you there."

"The halfling. He amuses me. I will go, but I will go because it pleases me, not because you asked." She started to go and then stopped, looking at Gerard once more. "This one interests me. He shall live."

Gunn quickly stepped between the two, blocking Gerard's view of the departing woman and flashing a quick smile. "She's in a band."

"A truly awful band," Price chimed in. "Worst music you ever heard."

"But she's a paying client."

"Yes, we must have those."

"'Course you do." Gerard offered a half-hearted grin at both of them and knew in his gut that whatever this Wesley Wyndham-Price was, he was no assistant high school librarian.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Wesley ushered the Marshal into the conference door and flashed him the most apologetic smile he could muster. "Would you excuse Mr. Gunn and I for a moment? We need to discuss a client matter and we'll be right with you."

Gerard nodded and Wesley was sure he didn't buy the flimsy excuse for even a millisecond.

"Fabulous. Really." He shut the door and leaned against it before turning to Gunn. "This is bad."

"You want my legal opinion on that, English?"

"Cyvus Vail," Wesley hissed softly. "Apparently, ours weren't the only memories that returned."

"Either that or somebody got wind of the big party going down tomorrow." Gunn whispered this softly, looking over his shoulder. "We really can't afford to deal with this now."

"We should try. Faith deserves that much." The memories were there, but they didn't feel completely real. He remembered the breakout, Faith's valiant ruse to bring in Angelus and then her seemingly impending death, only to see her rise and save Angel yet again. "We should call Andrew, assuming he'll take the call."

Gunn seemed to be sifting through his returned memories, too. With a curt nod, he concluded, "Yeah, we owe her that much. Ready?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What do you want to know?"

The smile was forced and Gerard was sure that whatever Price told him wasn't going to be the truth. If even a smidgen of truth were to come out, the lawyer, Gunn, would be all over it. Price looked resigned, grim and above all, weary. There was something else, too, that Gerard couldn't put his finger on. He opened his copy of the escape report and went to the most interesting fact. "You went out a window, Mr. Price. Four stories."

"Yes. My fall was broken by a Ford Taurus."

"No injuries?" And this, Gerard thought, was most impressive. Anyone else would have at least one broken bone. All hospitals were alerted, but Price never checked in.

"No." Price smiled wanly. "I was....five by five."

Say what? Five by five what? He decided to ask Cooper to find out what that meant. "Not a scratch?"

"None worth complaining about."

"And the girl, Faith..." Gerard glanced down at the report, though he could recite it from memory. "She just took off? You never saw her again?"

"That was Mr. Price's statement to the police, Deputy Gerard," Gunn cut in smoothly. "Are you accusing him of perjury?"

Gerard flashed a quick smile. "Of course not. But it has been a year since that statement and I was curious."

"No, I haven't seen her since last year," Price said, shooting a look at Gunn.

There was more to this, Gerard was sure, but it was time to change tack and get some background on Sunnydale. As he opened his mouth, the glass wall imploded and a body landed in the conference room.

The strange blue-haired woman, Illyria strode through the broken glass and grabbed the prone figure from the floor.

"Hey! Enough!"

Gerard couldn't believe the guy could speak, let alone break Illyria's grip, but the pale bleach-blonde did both and he turned to look at Gerard.

"Who's the ponce?"

"Spike." Price's voice was full of warning. "Not now."

Spike shrugged and jerked a thumb at Illyria. "Hey, don't blame me for breaking up your bore-a-thon. Smurfette here didn't feel like waiting for you anymore."

"I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule this, Deputy Gerard," Gunn told him. "As you can see, we have our hands full."

Gerard got to his feet. "That's fine. I'll have someone from my office set it up. And maybe we can also get Mr. Angel to sit in, since I have some questions for him, too."

The two exchanged glances before Gunn nodded. "Of course, Deputy. Wolfram and Hart will make certain you have access to everyone you need."

There was something going on here, Gerard was sure of it, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to find out what it was.


End file.
